‘Yes.’
Brunetti nodded. ‘And the apartment, how many square metres is it?’
Signora Ratti interrupted here, as if driven past her power to put up with such idiocy. ‘We have no idea of that. It’s adequate for our needs.’
Brunetti pulled the list of the apartments held in trust by the Lega towards him and flipped to the third page, then ran his finger down the list until he came to Ratti’s name. ‘Three hundred and twelve square metres, I think. And six rooms. Yes, I suppose that would be adequate for most needs.’
Signora Ratti was on him in a flash. ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
Brunetti turned a level glance on her. ‘Just what I said, Signora, and no more. That six rooms ought to be adequate for two – there are only two of you, aren’t there?’
‘And the maid,’ she answered.
‘Three, then,’ Brunetti agreed. ‘Still adequate.’ He turned away from her, face unchanged, and returned his attention to her husband. ‘How was it that you came to be given one of the apartments of the Lega, Professore?’
‘It was very simple,’ Ratti began, but it seemed to Brunetti that he had begun to bluster. ‘I applied for it in the normal fashion, and I was given it.’
‘To whom did you apply?’
‘To the Lega della Moralità, of course.’
‘And how did you happen to learn that the Lega had apartments which it rented?’
‘It’s common knowledge here in the city, isn’t it, Commissario?’
‘If it is not now, then it soon will be, Professore.’
Neither of the Rattis said anything to this, but Signora Ratti glanced quickly at her husband and then back at Brunetti.
‘Do you remember anyone in particular who told you about the apartments?’
Both of them answered instantly, ‘No.’
Brunetti allowed himself the bleakest of smiles. ‘You seem very sure of that.’ He made a meaningless squiggle against their name on the list. ‘And did you have an interview in order to obtain this apartment?’
‘No,’ Ratti said. ‘We filled out the paperwork and sent it in. And then we were told that we had been selected.’
‘Did you receive a letter, or perhaps a phone call?’
‘It’s been so long ago. I don’t remember,’ Ratti said. He turned to his wife for confirmation, and she shook her head.
‘And you’ve been in this apartment for two years now?’
Ratti nodded.
‘And you haven’t saved any of the receipts for the rent you’ve paid?’
This time his wife shook her head.
‘Tell me, Professore, how much time do you spend in the apartment each year?’
He thought about this for a moment. ‘We come for Carnevale.’
His wife finished his sentence with a firm, ‘Of course.’
Her husband continued. ‘Then we come for September, and sometimes for Christmas.’
His wife broke in here and added, ‘We come for the odd weekend during the rest of the year, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Brunetti repeated. ‘And the maid?’
‘We bring her with us from Milano.’
‘Of course,’ Brunetti nodded and added another squiggle to the paper in front of him.
‘May I ask you, Professore, if you are familiar with the purposes of the Lega? With its goals?’
‘I know that it aims at moral improvement,’ the professor answered in a tone that declared there could never be too much of that.
‘Ah, yes,’ Brunetti said, then asked, ‘But beyond that, to its purpose in renting apartments?’
This time, it was Ratti who glanced at his wife. ‘I think their purpose was to attempt to give the apartments to those they considered worthy of them.’
Brunetti continued, ‘Knowing this, Professore, did it at any time seem strange to you that the Lega, which is a Venetian organization, had given one of the apartments it controls to a person from Milano, a person who would, moreover, make use of the apartment only a few months of the year?’ When Ratti said nothing, Brunetti urged him, ‘Surely, you know how difficult it is to find an apartment in this city?’
Signora Ratti chose to answer this. ‘I suppose we believed that they wanted to give an apartment like this to people who would know how to appreciate it and care for it.’
‘By that are you suggesting that you would be better able to care for a large and desirable apartment than would, for example, the family of a carpenter from Cannaregio?’
‘I think that goes without saying,’ she answered.
‘And who, if I might ask, pays for repairs to the apartment?’ Brunetti asked.
Signora Ratti smiled and answered, ‘So far, there has been no need to make any repairs.’
‘But surely there must be a clause in your contract – if you were given a contract – which makes clear who is responsible for repairs.’
‘They are,’ Ratti answered.
‘The Lega?’ Brunetti asked.
‘Yes.’
‘So then maintenance is not the responsibility of the people who rent?’
‘No.’
‘And you are there for – ‘ Brunetti began and then glanced down at the paper in front of him, as though he had the number written there,’ – for about two months a year?’ When Ratti said nothing, Brunetti asked, ‘Is that correct, Professore?’
His question was rewarded with a grudging, ‘Yes.’
In a gesture he made consciously identical to the one used by the priest who taught catechism to his grammar-school class, Brunetti folded his hands neatly in front of him, just short of the bottom of the sheet of paper on his desk, and said, ‘I think it is time to begin making choices, Professore.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Then perhaps I can explain it to you. The first choice is that I have you repeat this conversation and your answers to my questions into a tape recorder or that we have a secretary come in and take it down in shorthand. Either way, I would ask you to sign a copy of that statement, ask both of you to sign it, since you are telling me the same thing.’ Brunetti paused long enough for that to register. ‘Or you could, and I suggest this is by far the wiser course, begin to tell me the truth.’ Both feigned surprise, Signora Ratti going so far as to add outrage.
‘In either case,’ Brunetti added calmly, ‘the least that will happen to you is that you will lose the apartment, though that might take some time to happen. But you will lose it; that is little, but it is certain.’ He found it interesting that neither demanded that he explain what he was talking about.
‘It is clear that many of these apartments have been rented illegally and that someone associated with the Lega has been collecting rents illegally for years.’ When Professore Ratti began to object, Brunetti raised a hand for an instant, then quickly folded his fingers back together. ‘Were it only a case of fraud, then perhaps you would be better advised to continue to maintain that you know nothing about all of this. But, unfortunately, it is far more than a case of fraud.’ He paused here. He’d have it out of them, by God.
‘What is it a case of?’ Ratti asked, speaking more softly than he had since he entered Brunetti’s office.
‘It is a case of murder. Three murders, one of them a member of the police. I tell you this so that you will begin to realize that we are not going to let this go. One of our own has been killed, and we are going to find out who did that. And punish them.’ He paused a moment to let that sink in.
‘If you persist in maintaining your current story about the apartment, then you will eventually become involved in a prosecution for murder.’
‘We know nothing about murder,’ Signora Ratti said, voice sharp.
‘You do now, Signora. Whoever is at the back of this plan to rent the apartments is also responsible for the three murders. By refusing to help us discover who is responsible for renting you your apartment and collecting your rent each month, you are also obstructing a murder investigation. The penalty for that, I need not remind you, is far more severe than for being evasive in a case involving fraud. And I add, but quite at the personal level, that I will do everything in my power to see that it is imposed upon you if you continue to refuse to help us.’